I'm Still Your Fag
by JayJay96
Summary: Mickey has never felt true regret before. Rated T for violence and language. Slash.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Shameless. If I did, you'd see a lot more Mickey/Ian

A/N: Title by Broken Social Scene

I'm Still Your Fag. 

"Hey, Mickey, look; somebody's coming."

Mickey took a long drag of his cigarette, then tossed it to the ground. He peered around the corner of the alley and sure enough, he could make out a figure walking quickly in their direction. He tightened his grip on the baseball bat in his hands, the familiar feeling of the worn handle beneath his fingertips. It was too dark to make out the face of whoever it was, but he could tell it was a guy, and he was alone.

"Okay, I'm gonna whack him with the bat," Mickey whispered. "Then you guys jump him, we find the cash if he has any, and then we run. Same as always." The figure drew closer, and Mickey felt his heartbeat speed up in anticipation. He hadn't done this since he's been released a little over a month ago, but mugging was like riding a bike; you never forgot how to do it.

As the person reached the opening of the alley, Mickey sprang out and swung the bat into his head. Not hard enough to leave any permanent damage, but with enough force that their victim crumpled to the ground with a cry of pain. Mickey's partners were immediately on him. Max searched his pockets, while Jason threw a couple punches at the (still conscious, amazingly) guy's face.

"I've got his wallet. There's nothing else. Let's get out of here." Max and Jason took off, with Mickey slightly behind. For some reason, as he was running, Mickey had the urge to look back. He turned his head, and the flash of ginger hair he saw stopped him short.

No. No no no no no. Shit.

He ran back to the body, panic building up.

"Mickey, what the fuck are you doing?" He ignored the voices behind him. As he reached the body, he collapsed, his knees weakening of their own accord.

"Ian. Fuck, Ian, what are you doing here? You're supposed to be working." As soon as he said it, Mickey regretted letting it slip that he knew Ian's work schedule. But the regret faded, overcome by a mix of panic and guilt. Ian wasn't responding; he wasn't moving.

"Shit, Ian. Wake up. God damn it, firecrotch, wake up." Blood was pouring out of the side of his head, where Mickey had smashed his baseball bat, and out of his nose as well. He wasn't waking up. Of course it was him, Mickey thought. Out of all the people in Chicago, it had to be him. Fuck.

Not knowing what else to do, Mickey scrambled to get his cellphone out of his pocket and called 911. That done, he got up. "I'm sorry," he forced out, the words tasting ugly and bitter in his mouth.

Then he ran.

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	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

The first thing Mickey did when he got home was wash the blood off his hands. He watched the crimson-tinted water swirling down the drain of the sink and tried to ignore the slight tremble making its way through his body.

What had he done. What the fuck had he done. Sure, he and Gallagher weren't boyfriends or any shit like that. But they were… well, he didn't really know what they were, but they were something, however unwilling he was to admit it. And, fuck, seeing him on the ground like that…

Mickey shook his head, trying to dislodge the image from his mind. He just… wasn't going to think about it. Or tell anyone. Especially not Gallagher. Shit, he hoped he was okay. He had to be okay, right? People got beat up all the time and they turned out fine. Well, some didn't, but Ian was strong. He wanted to be in the fucking army and get his ass shot off. He'd be fine.

Mickey launched himself into his bed and dragged the (admittedly disgusting dirty) covers over his head. Maybe some sleep would help him take his mind off of it. He didn't care, anyways. He just didn't want to get arrested, that's all. There was no way he was going back to Juvie. That's what was worrying him. Not Gallagher and his (maybe a little beautiful, okay? Shut the fuck up.) face.

Mickey was rudely awoken a couple hours later when Mandy burst through his door, crying and saying some shit he couldn't understand. Girls.

"Mandy, what the fuck? I'm trying to sleep here."

"Ian… he- it's Ian… I mean-"

Underneath his layers of blankets, Mickey suddenly felt cold. The shit had hit the fan.

"What, Mandy? What happened to Gallagher?" he asked, trying to play it cool. Nobody could know. Ever.

"Lip texted me. He said Ian was mugged and I know it happens all the time and it's not a big deal but he's in the hospital and he won't wake up and they won't tell the Gallaghers anything and he's in surgery or whatever and fuck I don't know if he's going to be okay."

Mickey had stopped listening after hearing the word surgery. That couldn't be right; it couldn't. He hadn't swung the bat that hard, had he? Not hard enough to… not hard enough to really damage him, right? He looked back up at Mandy, who was an absolute wreck. Eyeliner streamed down her face, which, combined with her red nose and bloodstained eyes, made her look like some sort of demon.

"Shit." Was all he could think of to say, his panicked mind unable to come up with a better response.

"Mickey, I know you don't really care or whatever, but could you come with me to the hospital? Everyone else is out doing god knows what and I just… I don't want to go alone."

Mickey really did not want to do that. He didn't want to go there and see the damage he had done. He didn't want to wait with Gallagher's family and Mandy and hope they didn't notice the neon sign pointing at his head screaming guilty. He didn't want to sit in the cold ass waiting room in a ridiculously uncomfortable plastic chair surrounded by the smell of antiseptic death.

But Mandy was looking at him like a fucking fragile doll or something, and they hadn't really been on the best terms lately, and… he kind of wanted to know if Gallagher was going to be alright, okay? Jesus.

So he just nodded, got out of bed, and pulled on his sneakers.

"Let's go."

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A/N:

Ian: WHY THE FUCK DID YOU DO THIS TO ME?

Mickey: To you? Look what she did to me! She made me have *feelings* and shit!

Me: Guys, I'm sorry! I couldn't resist!

Ian: I think you like whump too much.

Mickey: I concur.

Me: Concur?

Mickey: It was one of Ian's vocab words or whatever.

Me: Awwww, how sweet.

Mickey: Say that again and I'll cut you.


End file.
